


Strings/Lines

by skitterdwell



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Development, Character Study, F/F, Gen, Minor Original Character(s), Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-15 03:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5769742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skitterdwell/pseuds/skitterdwell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peridot struggles to learn to fuse. The Crystal Gems do their best. Results vary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Today

**Author's Note:**

> My own try at the "Peridot becomes a Crystal Gem, fuses, gets stars on her illusion-body, etc" genre. Looking for a beta if anyone wants to volunteer. Upcoming chapters will feature fusions, I promise.
> 
> Comments not only appreciated but adored! Thanks for stopping by!
> 
> EDIT, 1/21/2016: Fixed up some spacing. Thanks, dorksidefiker!
> 
> EDIT, 2/7/2016: Uploaded the edited version. Many thanks to my amazing beta, chibistarlyte! You are in for such a treat with later chapters because she'll have taken a crack at them first! Updates: Chapter two is written and pending edits. Chapter three is also mostly written out! You can keep up with my progress by following me on tumblr (kettledroid) or by just checking my Strings/Lines tag (kettledroid.tumblr.com/tagged/stringslines).

Against Peridot’s wishes, the sun rises on the first of many practice days. She peeks out of the bathroom to see Garnet and Steven stretching in the middle of the room, moving in time with a silly, nonsense-word song Steven sings. Pearl leans with her forearms against the kitchen counter, lost in her own introspection, and Peridot slinks to the couch, anxious. When she sits, her fingers tap against her knees, their irregular rhythm speeding up as her thoughts continue to spiral.

“Hey, Peri!”

Peridot shrieks and tumbles away from the sudden noise. It’s Amethyst, looking excited and pleased as she sits on the couch. She leans over to punch Peridot on the arm. “Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre you ready to start fusing?”

Peridot rubs at the sore spot and thinks about it.

“Perhaps,” she says at last. “Will  _ you _ be practicing today too, Amethyst?”

“Yeah, but not here. Gotta work on Sugilite.” She catches Peridot’s confused look. “Me and Garnet. Sometimes… we kinda get carried away.”

“By being fused?”

“Yeah.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“Being big is fun.”

Peridot has no response to that–well, she does, but it would hurt Amethyst’s feelings, and it is thus not worth vocalizing. She sighs and watches Steven finish his dance. This seems to cue the Gems to gather around him, so Peridot joins them, holding one arm with her other hand.

“All right, Gems,” says Garnet. “Amethyst and Steven, I’m going to help you choreograph. Peridot, Pearl is going to teach you basic dance steps. Lunch. After that, Amethyst, Pearl, and I are going to go work on Sugilite. Steven and Peridot, you’re to stay here and practice your weapons.”

“Awww, I wanna see Sugilite again!”

“Steven, you know you need more summoning practice than you need to see Sugilite,” says Pearl.

“Yeah, but she’s so cool!” Steven’s comment earns a grin and a knock on the shoulder from Amethyst.

“If we manage it, you’ll be able to see her much more often,” says Garnet with a tiny smile. “Now, let’s get to work.”

 

Peridot spends the morning moving through different positions, led by Pearl. She’s not nearly as flexible or graceful as Pearl, and falls on her face several times–Amethyst’s snorts of laughter can be heard across the room each time it happens. Peridot wishes Amethyst would pay attention when she gets something right, for once, but is too busy ordering her limbs to reply to her amusement.

“This isn’t dancing, it’s just poses,” she says to Pearl, rubbing her head as she gets up from a tumble.

“The positions are the building blocks of dance,” replies Pearl. “Did you start building spaceships the instant you left the kindergarten? These steps will give you the poise and grace to do any kind of dance you like.”  

Peridot concedes the point and focuses on her feet, which have trouble responding to the positions Pearl calls. Once she has her legs aligned, her posture is wrong, and her elbows can’t seem to find the appropriate angle. Muscle memory comes dear when there are no actual muscles to train. Just before lunch, Pearl turns on some music and does a demonstration for her benefit. Peridot can see the logic and the physics of her motions, and the apparent love Pearl has for her dance, but feels none of it herself. She wonders, briefly, if that means there’s something wrong with her.

Lunch is Garnet, Pearl, and Peridot observing Steven and Amethyst as they put away an astonishing amount of food. “It’s a good thing we’re not practicing with Opal today,” remarks Pearl as she watches Amethyst devour a loaf of bread still in its wrapping. “I hate fusing when you’ve been eating.”

Amethyst lets out a satisfied burp and picks at a piece of plastic in her teeth. “Just ‘cause of that one time?”

Pearl looks annoyed, and Steven asks her to explain before she can get truly irritated.

“It was a tire,” says Garnet.

Peridot thinks back to the round things she used to build her robot, and winces at the thought of that tough material between her teeth. She’d tried a few human foods, but hadn’t liked any except for the fluffy, immaterial stuff Steven’s friend brought over once. Cotton candy, it was called, and it had taste without significant substance.

 

Her recollection is brought short by Amethyst pushing away from the counter, stool feet screeching against the floor.

“We’re going,” says Garnet, rising.

“Just repeat the exercises we taught you yesterday,” says Pearl, also standing up. “And Steven, if you have time after that, see if you can teach Peridot how to bubble.”

“Okeydoke. See you later!” He waves goodbye as the warp pad comes to life,and turns to Peridot. “Did you have a good morning, Peridot?”

“You were _in the room_ , Steven. You saw me fall.”

“Well yeah, but that doesn’t tell me how you feel about it.”

She’s been working on using words instead of nonverbal noises to convey her feelings, but it still takes a beat to find the correct word to fit to the emotion. “… Frustrated.” He nods sympathetically, and because it’s Steven, she tries again with another word. “Worried” pops out of her mouth before she can think about it, and she blinks, astonished at her own accuracy.

“Worried?” Steven also looks surprised. “Why?”

“I… don’t know.”

She’s pretty sure she could find out if she picked at it enough, but she’s had plenty of time to meditate on her feelings, and it hasn’t helped at all. So Peridot drags him outside to practice with their weapons--her practicing aim with her slingshot, Steven summoning his shield in different sizes for longer amounts of time.

The slingshot is much easier than Pearl’s dance steps. Peridot hits the target or she does not. The binary outcomes make sense to her, and it is easy to calculate her success rate or her hits per hour and compare it to previous efforts (all this crucial information carefully entrusted to her tape recorder, of course).

Meanwhile, Steven works to summon a large shield, and hold it for as long as he can. As Peridot takes a break from slingshot, she watches his pink face turn pinker as he struggles to maintain its form. She would laugh at him, but it had taken her a month and a half even to pull this small device from her gem. It’s strange, to think of a Quartz’s shield and a Peridot’s slingshot taking the same amount of effort.

 

The rest of the Gems show up, all covered with sand and dust, and Amethyst with a pleased smirk on her face. Peridot reports today’s statistics to Pearl (who can not only understand the data but also _appreciate_ them best of anyone in the Temple) as Amethyst horses around with Steven, something between a piggyback ride and a wrestling match.

“Good work, Peridot,” says Pearl. She projects a graph from her gem, and adds another data point. “This continues your upward trend. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there, but it looks like you do well enough on your own! And we have more dance practice to look forward to later, of course.”

“Yes. Dance practice,” says Peridot, suddenly tired.

“Awww, what’s the matter, P-dot?” calls Amethyst, twisting around to get a look at her. “You wanna come hang out with me and Vidalia?”

“Who’s Vidalia?”

“A friend of mine. She’s cool. And Steven chills with her kid, Onion.”

“Uhh, yeah. We chill. We’re cool. We hang. We’re buds.” Steven sounds a bit nervous, but Amethyst ignores it, untangling him from her limbs.

“Whaddya say, Peribomb?” Amethyst shapeshifts into a small car and nudges Peridot with her bumper. “You can see what a real human house is like!”

Peridot, against her better judgment, accepts.

 

Vidalia exclaims over Peridot at the front door and, upon her asking a multitude of questions about, well, everything, has Sour Cream give her a tour;Steven had already been swept away by the tiny child known as Onion. Sour Cream’s obvious disinterest waxes to excitement as they approach a door in the kitchen.

“This is the basement,” he tells her. “Where I DJ.”

“What’s that?”

“I mix music and stuff.”

“Is it…” Peridot struggles to remember what Pearl called the music from earlier today. “…classical? Piano?”

“No way. Way cooler than that. Let me show you.” He flicks the stair light on and they proceed downstairs. There is a table set up with some bulky equipment, and Sour Cream fiddles with some components (small devices with screens, what looks like some kind of folding terminal) for a little while, Peridot looking on and doing her best not to appear too interested in the human technology. “So what do you like to listen to?” he asks, plugging one thing in and unplugging another.

“I don’t know. I’ve only heard classical and piano.”

“You’ll love this. Get ready.”

The noises that follow are extraordinary: loud, clashing and discordant, industrial and alive. She can’t believe Sour Cream’s calm face as he continues to manipulate the equipment–couldn’t he tell how good it was? How could he be so… complacent? It’s not like he has a gem, so it’s not like he could feel the noise reverberating through him like Peridot does. And yet it’s not right to just stand there - the music tugs at her limbs, demands her participation. Before she can think about it too hard, she lets go and begins to move.

Her motions are aggressive, erratic and unrestrained, and they have nothing in common with Pearl’s forms, yet they feel so much better. For the first time in a while, Peridot grins and lets herself laugh out loud, wildly.

Before Peridot’s ready to stop (though she’s dizzy and out of breath), the track fades off and Sour Cream replaces it with something else–calmer, slower, and with some kind of buzzing twang in the background.

“What was that?” she asks, putting her hands on her knees, trying to see straight again.

“Iron Remnants, _Fault Lion_ ,” says Sour Cream, holding up a small plastic object. “Their work is too good for my dad, so I only play them when he’s gone.”

“Can you… play it again?”

 

Peridot leaves Vidalia’s house enraptured. Sour Cream will not lend her his CDs (Steven had apparently ruined one of his before), but he promises to DJ for her when she comes over next.

In the morning, she and Pearl resume dance practice. It’s no easier than before, and she finds herself wondering if she will ever learn to dance–and fuse–correctly.


	2. Strive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pearl and Peridot pas de deux.  
> Extended chapter notes available at http://kettledroid.tumblr.com/post/139465647234/ch2extnotes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cats, friends! Chapter two is here!! Some housekeeping details:  
> Please give a big welcome and THANK YOU to my beta, chibistarlyte! She's a fantastic beta reader and working together with her is a pleasure. You can find her on here or on tumblr under chibistarlyte!  
> You can find extended chapter notes at my tumblr (I recommend you read after reading the chapter!). URL is kettledroid, but feel free to follow, or just keep an eye on kettledroid.tumblr.com/tagged/stringslines for updates/deleted dialogue/miscellany. :3
> 
> Finally, and this is a big one, THANK YOU SO MUCH!! to everyone who commented or left kudos on chapter one. Writing is hard, on top of life, you know, and your support honestly makes me feel so happy and motivated! I've read each and every comment at least a dozen times. Your words mean so much to me! Thank you!

Useless things have a way of growing on you. Peridot has a small yet growing collection of _stuff_ – insignificant things with no purpose, bits and pieces she holds onto because throwing them away would simply be _incorrect._

Pearl shakes her head and blames Amethyst when she notices, but Amethyst has nothing to do with any of it.

There’s a small green guitar pick. Greg gave it to her when she visited with Steven on errands. From the color and the shape, Peridot had assumed that he was making some kind of unsubtle joke in retaliation for the barn incident, but… “Let me teach you some chords, sometime,” he said, and Steven swore up and down that it was an honest suggestion.

There’s also a red hair clip, with a star added on in puffy yellow paint. Connie brought it to her after her defection, also having noted the Crystal Gems’ motif.  “Wow, thanks,” said Peridot, wondering what to do with it. Connie asked her permission, and then stuck it in, right above her gem. It kept falling out–some combination of Peridot’s alien hair and the cheap clasping mechanism–and so was useless…

Still, important.

All this and other odds and ends she collects carefully in an old shoebox and stores under the bathroom sink.

Peridot is depositing a small coin (handed to her by Garnet, found on the ground somewhere, for _good luck_ , of all things) into the mess when Pearl pokes her head in the bathroom door.

“Peridot, Steven’s looking for you outside,” she says. “I think he’s going into town again.” She eyes the box balefully, but doesn’t say anything.

“Thanks,” says Peridot, putting the lid back on and pushing it to the back of the cabinet.

“Your posture is getting better,” remarks Pearl as they leave the bathroom and move towards the front door. “Those limb enhancers really did a number on your carriage. You’ll be an excellent dancer in no time.”

“ _Thanks_ ,” repeats Peridot through gritted teeth.

 

Steven straddles his bicycle, waiting in the yard below the porch, and he beams as she descends the steps.

“Hiii! Amethyst wanted me to give something to Vidalia, so I’m going over there for a little bit.” He points to his cheeseburger backpack with his thumbs. “I thought you might like to see Sour Cream!” Peridot brightens immediately at the prospect.

“Yes! Yes, I want to go!”

“Well, let’s go then!” He waves goodbye to Pearl, who looks down on them from the porch.

“Don’t stay out too late!” she calls. “It’ll be dark soon!”

They walk the bike down the beach, Steven’s chatter mingling with the sound of waves against the shore. Peridot tunes him out when he gets started talking about food–she already knows she doesn’t like it much.

Eventually they reach the sidewalk, and Steven gestures to the handlebars.

“Jump on!”

It doesn’t turn out to be that simple–Steven has to show her how to sit on the handlebars, and then assure her that he won’t go fast enough to crack her gem, should she fall off. His one-sided conversation continues a bit more breathily as he pedals them down the boardwalk, and Peridot only begins paying attention again when she realizes they’re turning too early to go to Vidalia’s house.

“This isn’t the way to Vidalia’s!” she points out, craning her head around to see if Steven notices the mistake.

“I know!” he says, a chirp in his voice even as he breathes deeply. “We’re going to see Dad first. Don’t… worry… it won’t take long! I just wanna… say hi.”

They roll up to the carwash in the early twilight. The carwash is closed and quiet, and Greg Universe sits on a lawn chair outside his van, plucking idly at a guitar. He beams and stands up when he catches sight of Steven, and leaves the instrument to sweep his son up in a bear hug.

“Hey, Stu-dude! How are ya?” He puts Steven down and turns to Peridot. “Hi, Peridot.”

She clears her throat, still slightly embarrassed. “Hello, _Greg_.” She pauses, remembering Sour Cream’s gesture, occasionally offered whenever she visits, and, tucking her other hand behind her back, offers her fist for him to bump. Greg, looking bemused, taps her fist gently with his own.

“Well, this is nice. Here for an evening jam sesh with your old man?”

“No, not tonight, Dad! I just wanted to see you. We have to get going so we can see Vidalia and get back–“

“Is this an _electric_ guitar?” Father and son turn to see Peridot examining the instrument with interest.

“Hey, yeah! It is! You like it?”

She ignores his question in favor of her own: “Can you shred?”

Greg chuckles and takes the guitar from her, pulling the strap over his head. “Oh, I might have a few rips in me.” And so saying, he executes several hair-raising runs, finishing with a loud, satisfying chord. Steven whoops appreciatively, but Peridot is frozen with her chin in her hand. She comes to a decision and grabs Steven’s sleeve.

“ _We have to go back to the temple_ ,” she screeches, and begins pulling him toward his bike.

“Huh? Why?!”

“ _We_ have _to_! It’s important.”

“But what about Vidalia’s –“

“Get on! Let’s go!” She is already clambering up onto the handlebars. She smacks the seat. “Hurry! Greg, _don’t go anywhere_. Don’t move. It is _imperative_ that you _don’t_ _move_.”

“I, uhh, okay!” Steven gets on the bike, flips the kickstand up, and starts pedaling. “’Bye, Dad!”

Greg waves, entirely mystified, and sits back down.

 

When they reach the beach again, Peridot tells Steven to wait and runs all the way to the temple. She clatters up the steps and bangs open the door, startling Amethyst, who is sitting on Steven’s bed with Garnet and watching television.

“Don’t worry about it,” says Garnet as Peridot narrowly avoids colliding with the wall behind Steven’s bathroom.

“You, uh, sure about that, G?” asks Amethyst,

“Yes. Pass the popcorn.”

A moment later, Peridot emerges from the bathroom, holding something and cackling with glee.

“Peridot!”

Peridot pauses at the door and peers up at Garnet, looking almost guilty.

“Tell Greg we know you and Steven will be staying overnight.”

A surprised “nehh” is the only acknowledgement before she leaves, the screen door clattering shut behind her.

 

When Steven and Peridot return to the carwash, it’s past dark and Greg is sitting in the parking lot’s floodlights, still picking out notes and singing to himself.

Steven tumbles off the bike and breathes heavily, sweat standing out on his face, as Peridot races up to Greg and presents the green pick to him.

“Teach me how to shred.” Seeing the astonished look on his face, and sensing his hesitation, she adds Pearl’s magic word: “ _Please._ ”

“Dad! Peridot can be your new student! And then we can all play together!” Steven goes starry-eyed at the prospect.

“I can definitely teach you guitar, but it’ll take a little while to get to shredding,” says Greg, rubbing the back of his head. “Why do you want to _shred_ , anyway?”

“Because it’s sick,” says Peridot smoothly, using one of Sour Cream’s favorite words. “It’s cool. I want to learn.”

“She’ll be a good student,” adds Steven. “She works hard at everything, we practice gem stuff together _all the time_ , and Dad! She has _perfect pitch_!”

“Well… all right. It’s a bit late right now, though.”

“Garnet knows we’ll stay overnight,” says Peridot. “So can we start _now_?”

 

The guitar is comically large on Peridot’s lap, and her arms are a bit short to reach the entire length of the neck. Greg arranges her hands and explains the mechanics to her, and Steven offers helpful tips as he plays with his phone in the background.

And yet, as she plucks at the strings, she feels a deep well of contentment open in her chest. It is difficult, yes, and her fingers hurt, yes, but Peridot’s hands are made for delicate work, for fine tuning and details. Sophistication will come to her, she knows.

These moments, the connections between her effort and the sound are for her, just as Pearl’s swordplay is for Pearl, Pearl’s _dance_ is for Pearl.

Steven and Greg go to sleep in the van, and Peridot practices deep into the night.

  


Peridot, not requiring sleep, devotes her nocturnal hours to the guitar. If the weather’s good, she practices on one of the Temple’s outstretched hands – the one with the washer and dryer – and watches the night sky, thinking about Homeworld, making intermittent notes on her tape recorder. If the weather is bad, she reads, or tries to go to sleep, like Amethyst and Steven suggest. Or Garnet will come and talk to her in the bathroom.

It’s nice to learn something that she knows she likes. Her slingshot, while literally a part of her, doesn’t require the full measure of her intelligence, and dancing with Pearl calls for all of her concentration, but none of her spirit.

At the moment, Peridot’s life is so full of learning and trying that she thinks her gem would crack if she didn’t have the tape recorder. Amethyst digs a box of tapes for her to record over out of her room, and this precious resource she keeps next to her things-box under the sink. (Amethyst _had_ offered to share her room with Peridot, but the relative privacy the bathroom offers more than makes up for the occasional smell or post-shower humidity.)

 _Trying_ takes a new level of difficulty when Pearl decides that Peridot is ready to try partnered dance lifts and dips and precise twirls. Amethyst joins them occasionally to act as Peridot’s partner–being of similar height, and having undergone the same training– and while it’s obvious that it’s not Amethyst’s style, she genuinely seems to believe that Pearl’s teaching will help Peridot. “Worked for me,” she says, inserting a pinky into her nose. “You’ll get the ballet junk, no sweat.” In the face of Amethyst’s flippancy, Peridot keeps trying, and tries not to feel ridiculous and breakable when Pearl lifts her so easily above her head.

Pearl learned (and perfected) this. Amethyst learned this, apparently _easily._ Peridot can learn it, too.

 

One morning, Steven watches them attempt something Pearl calls a _pas de deux_. Peridot’s form is still shaky, and she doesn’t have all of the steps memorized yet; it’s almost painful for Steven to watch her, clearly so out of her element, grasping at the straws Pearl offers her.

As they finish with not a fusion but a bow, Steven lunges for Pearl.

“Peeeeeeeeearl! I’ve got… something I gotta show you outside!”

“Steven, I–well–excuse me, Peridot.”

He drags her out of the house and down the stairs.

“What are you doing?!” he asks her, voice strained with the effort of keeping quiet.

“Teaching Peridot how to dance,” says Pearl, looking puzzled.

“You’ve been practicing for months and you still haven’t fused yet?”

“Well–yes, but.” Pearl looks frustrated. “She can’t seem to relax into any of the steps. Amethyst never became _outstanding_ at ballet, but she could hold the rhythm, get the feel of it enough to fuse.”

“That’s not fair! You can’t compare them. You never compare _me_ to Amethyst!”

“Because you’re half human, Steven. The comparison isn’t logically sound.”

“But the comparison between Amethyst and Peridot isn’t logically sound, either! Amethyst grew up with you. You’re like her big sister, so it makes sense that you led when you taught her. But the robot competition proved that you and Peridot are _equal_! Have you tried listening to the music she likes, or made an effort to understand how she feels?”

Pearl blinks and flushes a little. “Well… no. She’s always been quite vocal about how she feels before… Not that she has been, lately…”

“Since when?”

“Since…” Pearl sighs. “Since we started with the lessons, actually.”

“I’m gonna go talk to her, and then you’re going to and try, really try, to be _friends_ with her. Not her teacher. Okay?”

“I’ll… try, Steven.”

 

Steven stays up that night and waits for Peridot to warp to the Temple’s hand. He doesn’t sing to himself or swing his feet back and forth off the edge, as he normally would–the unease in his gut precludes him from his normal liveliness.

Peridot warps in well after dark, her guitar in her arms. Her eyes narrow as they catch sight of him.

“ _Steven._ ”

“Hi. It’s a good night for stargazing, don’t you think?”

She looks at him suspiciously, trying to read the purpose of his presence.

“Not really,” she says. “There are clouds coming in from the south. It will certainly storm before morning.”

“Oh.”

She plugs her guitar into the amp that sits next to the washer and dryer, and strums once before sitting down beside Steven.

“How does the amp work up here?”

Peridot fiddles with the tuning knobs.

“I don’t know,” she says, checking the E string mechanically. “Garnet and Pearl won’t tell me, and Amethyst doesn’t know.”

“Garnet wouldn’t tell me how the washer and dryer work, either,” says Steven. “She just said it was magic.”

She continues tuning without saying anything, though it feels like something spiny has crawled into her throat.

“Do you… miss Homeworld?”

She glares at him. “They don’t miss _me_.”

Steven gives up on the roundabout questioning. “Then why are you so sad?”

“ _I’m_ not _sad_ !” She’s jumped up and yelled at him before she can fully control herself, but she realizes she doesn’t _want_ to control herself anymore. “Nothing on this stupid planet makes any sense! _Nothing_ makes _any_ sense anymore!”

She begins to pace back and forth, the guitar still slung across her front.

“I can’t learn anything about the Temple, because nobody trusts me. The warship we came on–I knew everything about it, Steven _. Everything_ . I could do all of the maintenance on it myself. There are no Kindergartens for me to work on. I’m terrible at fighting, and I can’t even fuse to make myself useful, so I’m not even a real Crystal Gem!” She throws her fists down and howls at the empty ocean. “ _What’s the point of me?_ ”

“You’re the point of you.”

Peridot freezes.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“It means, you don’t have to do anything to be welcome here. You’re Peridot, and that’s enough.”

“But I’m _not!_ ” she pleads, desperate to make him understand. “I can’t dance right!  I can’t–“

“What about guitar? Haven’t you been practicing all this time?”

“Yes, but–“

“When you play music, doesn’t it make you feel good?” He grabs her hands, holds them tightly. “That’s _enough_. _You’re enough_ . And you try so hard all the time! You’re getting better every day. Don’t you understand? I want you here. Amethyst and Garnet and Pearl and Lion and Sour Cream and Dad-- _we_ want you here, Peridot! You’re important and you matter.”

There are no words for what Peridot wants to say–none that can make it past the spiny creature in her throat, anyway. So she offers her hand for Steven to hold, and when he takes it, they sit back down at the edge of the hand.

After a long time, Steven asks her to sing something. “And play, too,” he adds, through a yawn. “If you want.”

She’s tired too, and overstimulated by her own emotions, so she borrows an old melody.

_Lost and found on the planet earth_

_Is there anything scarier than_

_Being lost and found on the planet earth…_

The warp pad activates. It’s Garnet, and she leans down to pick up a drowsy Steven.

“Bedtime.”  She offers her other hand to Peridot. “You, too, Peridot.”

This gesture, more than Steven’s words, unlocks the feelings jammed in her throat; a small keen escapes her lips. “Shhh. Unplug your guitar, and we’ll go.” She does so, tears and snot running down her face, and reaches for Garnet’s free hand.

The guitar is carefully set by Steven’s bed, and Garnet tucks them both in as rain reaches Beach City.

 

The next morning, Pearl takes Peridot to a flowery meadow by warp pad. They walk for a little while, until they find some kind of stone ruins; Pearl seats herself in the shade and asks Peridot to do the same.

“I don’t think I’ve been a good teacher for you.  So I wanted to say… I’m sorry.”

“No–aghh–look.” Peridot pulls her knees up to her chest and tries to her organize her thoughts. “I’m not–I wasn’t _made_ for this.”

Pearl smiles flatly. “You’re making that excuse to the wrong gem.”

“No, listen. I’ve done all the right steps. I’ve learned how to _pas de deux_. I’ve studied the music. But for some reason, I’m still not _correct_. I can’t fuse. There must something wrong with me.”

“There’s not a single right way to fuse. It’s not…” Pearl breaks off and rubs at her eyes, muttering to herself.

“…What?”

“I’m just such a fool, sometimes,” says Pearl, clenching her hands in her lap. “It’s astonishing, really.” She takes a moment to compose her thoughts. “Peridot: I misled you. Fusion isn’t about hitting the correct positions at the correct moments. There’s nothing about it that you can call correct, even. It’s just two gems having a conversation–a conversation that starts with a dance.  We wanted to teach you basic dance steps, so you could participate in a conversation. All this–the practice, the failures, the disappointments–it’s just one more step you have to take in the right direction.” Pearl leans over and puts her hand on Peridot’s head, her thumb resting lightly on the bottom of her visor. “In that sense, none of us are really _made_ for it.”

“Oh,” is all Peridot can manage. She feels small again, just like when she’d offended Amethyst.

“Besides,” adds Pearl, “what were the things you used to call us?”

“Permafusion. Hybrid atrocity. …Defective.” Peridot feels smaller, and then bounces back. “But I was wrong when I said those things! I didn’t _know_!”

“Wouldn’t a group made of abominations and defectives have a place for a gem who can’t fuse?” Pearl’s eyes glitter strangely as she smiles at Peridot, her face sad and ancient. “This planet isn’t for the perfect. But I know you can do it. I believe in you, and I know you’re going to prove yourself wrong.” She stands up and brushes the dust off herself. “When you’re ready to start dancing again, let me know.”

She walks off in the direction of the warp pad. Just before she activates it, she hears footsteps pounding behind her, and she looks back.

“Wait! _Why_. _Why_?”

“She did it for me,” Pearl says, turning away and into the chimes and light of the warp stream.

 

A week later, they resume lessons. Freed of the pressure to fuse, Peridot stands straighter, is lighter on her feet. Her transitions become smoother, her chin stays higher; the lifts and twirls and measured steps unfurl themselves day by day to Peridot as a vocabulary belonging to Pearl and shared with her. Peridot could measure the angle of an arm or the force necessary to execute a jump, but these distinctions are, she discovers, worthless. It is a language obscure to her, yet loaned with grace, and she acknowledges and respects it all the same.

Steven catches the tail end of their _pas de deux_ one morning as he wakes up. They finish, and Pearl sets Peridot down on the floor.

“ _Very_ well done, Peridot. I don’t have much else to teach you, unless you _really_ want to study and become an expert.”

“I don’t,” says Peridot. “But it is generous of you to offer.” She shoots up a tentative smile, and Pearl smiles crookedly back.

“Good morning, everybody!” sings Steven as he comes down the stairs. The gems look up at him, Peridot proud, Pearl satisfied.

“Good morning, Steven.”

“Hello.”

“Are you guys done already?”

“Why, yes, I think so. She’s come very far, and I don’t think I can take her any farther.”

“What? No more morning dancing?” Steven looks dismayed. “What about breakfast singing? Can that stay?”

“Breakfast singing is unrelated to morning dancing, and thus is unaffected by its cessation. Your days will proceed as usual,” says Peridot.

“Not today, it won’t. Will you dance one more time, so I can watch?”

Peridot and Pearl glance at each other, and Pearl shrugs just as Peridot says, “Sure.”

“Awesome! Wait a second.” He runs to the kitchen and emerges with a bowl of cereal and a spoon. “Okay, go!”

They bow to each other, and begin. There’s nothing outwardly new about it, but it feels different; Pearl is filled with pride, showing her pupil’s hard work off to one of her favorite people, and the ease with which they move together is exhilarating. Every handclasp, every rotation, every step and turn is imbued with Peridot’s competence and Pearl’s controlled grace, and the differences between the two become tiny and insignificant.

At the apex of a lift, Peridot notices that her gem is glowing.

“Pearl!” she says, confused and hopeful and frightened. She is lowered to the ground, and looks through Pearl’s own light to her eyes, luminous and blue.

“I know,” she says, crouching to meet Peridot’s eyes equally. “Only if you want to.” She holds out her hand, and when Peridot takes it, their bodies thaw into light.


	3. Stubborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven and Peridot.
> 
> Extended chapter notes available at: http://kettledroid.tumblr.com/post/142994925034/stringslines-chapter-3-is-up

Connie is over, not to practice swordplay, but simply to spend time with Steven.  They sit on the couch, a toolbox on the coffee table.

“I think two braids might be nice,” says Steven, combing out Connie’s hair.

“Whatever you think is best, I trust you,” replies Connie. “But not too tight this time.”

“Don’t worry! I practiced on Amethyst since last time. I’m an  _ expert  _ at hair now.” Steven pretends to toss his own hair and they giggle together.

Connie pulls out a book and opens it to a well-worn bookmark. “Are you ready?” she asks over her shoulder.

“Mhmmm.”

 

She begins reading to him, starting, of course, with chapter one. It’s a story about a thief, beginning with his time in the king’s prison, and Connie’s a good narrator; Steven loses track of braiding and just combs her hair, his hands on autopilot as he listens to the story.

When the thief sets out with the king’s advisor, Peridot peeks out of the bathroom, and seeing none of the Gems, walks out and wanders over to Steven and Connie. She listens for a few moments to the story, but as it seems to lack any Percy or Pierre appeal, turns her attention to the toolbox.

 

It’s filled mostly with bottles – small ones filled with bright colors, a larger one with pale yellow liquid – but also contains a tube of something glittery and some fluffy white balls. Peridot picks one of the balls up, sniffs it, pulls it apart, but can’t think of any purpose for them. Having had some experience with this ritual of Steven and Connie’s, she waits for the chapter break to inquire.

“What is the purpose of these orbs?”

“They’re called cotton balls. They help you clean up nail polish.” Steven takes it from her and dabs at his fingernails in demonstration.

“What is that?” Her eyes slide back to the small bottles, and Steven almost hears the gears click into place behind her face. “Another class of appearance modifier?”

“Yeah! Wanna try?”

Peridot thinks back to meeting the human Lars, and his modified ears. He’d assured her that getting them that way had hurt,  _ a lot _ . “Does it hurt?”

“No, but it smells kind of bad,” says Connie, reaching over to extract a pale purple bottle. “Until it dries. And then later, if you take it off. That part smells bad, too.”

“Then no. But I will watch you proceed with the operation.”

“The only problem is dr… Steven!” Connie’s face lights up. “I just remembered something one of the girls at school told me!”

“What is it?”

“Apparently, if you dip your wet nails in cold water, it dries them really quickly! Then I wouldn’t have to worry about getting polish on my book!”

“That sounds really cool! Let’s try it.” Steven runs to the kitchen to find a bowl and a towel.

“Make sure to put ice in it.” Connie gets up just as Steven returns, and they move awkwardly in the same direction a few times, trying to get around each other.

“Save your sweet moves for the dance floor, Miss Mahaeswaren,” says Steven in a funky voice, stepping back and bowing over the bowl of water, motioning her to move past.

“My my, Mr. Universe. How suave you are today.” Connie moves past him and retrieves a glass of water from the kitchen.

“I ate a special  _ grown up _ breakfast this morning. It’s enhancing my smooth powers.”

“No, you didn’t,” says Peridot. “You ate processed grain and sugar product with opaque calcium-fortified liquid, the same as you do every day, and in the same amount, at the same time.”

“You’re right! I was just playing with Connie.” Steven sets the bowl and towel down next to the toolbox. “Hmmm, maybe I should do mine today. What color do you think would look best, Peridot?”

“You have the Rose Quartz gem, don’t you? Pink.”

Steven holds up three bottles. “Yes, but  _ which  _ pink? Choices, choices.”

They’re all pink, and thus all match the gem, and so Peridot doesn’t re ally care; he settles for a magenta but sets it aside to work on Connie’s hands.

“It’s cracked a lot,” says Steven, inspecting her nails.

“Sword training puts a lot of wear and tear on ‘em,” she agrees, flexing her hands. “My calluses are pretty big now – way bigger than when I just did tennis.”

“Your hands are tough  _ and  _ pretty.”

“Thanks to your family!”

“Thanks to  _ your hard work _ !”

They grin at each other and high-five.

“When are you two going to begin  _ actually doing _ anything?”

“Oh, right, sorry! Here. First we start by removing the old polish…” Steven opens the big bottle – Peridot recoils slightly at the smell -- holds a cotton ball to the mouth, and tips it over. He scrubs Connie’s fingers, and the paint flakes off neatly. “See? Now her nails are clean, and we can put on a new color! This purple, right?”

“Yup. You ready to go back to the story?”

“Yes ma’am. Peridot?”

“Affirmative.”

 

Connie reopens the book, balancing it on her knee, and begins reading chapter three.

Peridot watches closely as Steven shakes and then opens the bottle, and applies the polish. Even if the chemicals stink, neither of the two humans seemed to mind exposure to it – Steven manages to dribble some on his thumb and doesn’t seem worried – so that part’s all right, at least. It actually reminds her of Vidalia’s work –  _ painting _ is the correct term, she remembers – but smaller and for personal appearance modification.

All in all, it seems like a highly satisfactory process, so when Connie pauses reading to see if the cold water trick will work – “Success!” –  Peridot asks Steven if she can try to do his nails.

“Oh man, would you? My right hand always looks funky because I’m right handed. You’ll do a much better job!”

Peridot has to stop and reflect on that.  _ Right handed. _ When she thinks about it, all of the humans she’s met tend to focus their activity on one side, leaving the other weaker and clumsier; she herself is entirely ambidextrous. She runs out to the porch, notes this observation in her log, and rushes back inside.

(Steven, the person who first told her it was rude to make observations about people in front of them, is not bothered by this quick absence, and shrugs when Connie sends him a questioning look. “It’s a Peridot thing.”)

Peridot sits back down and thinks back through what Steven did.

Step one. Shake the bottle. In case the liquid separated from itself – some of the specimens in the box looked mottled.

Step two. Unscrew the lid.

Step three. Apply the paint.

It is unexpectedly satisfying to see the color blooming on Steven’s little finger – the color that she put there. Herself. No regeneration needed.

( _ “Personal chemical appearance modifiers, _ ” she notes much later, “ _ are the coolest _ .”)

Spontaneously, she reaches for another color – Connie’s purple.  And then for a sunshiny yellow, and a dark blue, and then a brown.

She dips his hand into the water while he is still listening to the story, and he yelps in surprise. (That part is satisfying, too.)

 

Connie leaves in the early afternoon to spend time with some visiting family. Steven retires to his bed to play video games, and Peridot retrieves the clip Connie had given her some time ago. She contemplates it for a while, before emerging again from the bathroom to engage Steven in conversation.

“Humans need very many  _ things _ ,” she says, sitting down next to him.

“What do you mean?”

“Shelter. Clothing. Biological necessities.” She gestures at the bookcase behind his bed. “Entertainment.”

“This is all true. Why do you mention it?”

“Then there are some things that you don’t need, but you keep anyways.”

“Huh?” He pauses the game and looks over at her, and then follows her gaze to the hairclip resting in her palm.

“It doesn’t work, and I don’t need it. I said ‘Wow, thanks,’ when Connie gave it to me, so the transaction was completed. But I still keep it. Why?”

“It was a gift, and it shows that Connie was thinking of you nicely. Why  _ wouldn’t _ you want to keep something like that?”

Peridot shakes her head. “It doesn’t make sense. The emotional response is... unreasonable.”

Steven looks like he’s about to say something, but then his train of thought shifts abruptly. “Peridot, have you ever given anyone a gift?”

“ _ No _ …”

“ _ That’s crazy!  _ Then you should give Connie one! To say thank you!” He jumps up. “This is an Earth experience you can’t miss! What do you want to give her?”

“ _ I don’t know _ .”

“I have the perfect idea, then! Let’s go!”

 

Peridot rides into Beach City on Steven’s handlebars without worrying about taking a spill, and Steven pedals without losing his breath quite as badly. “I’m getting buff,” he tells her as they glide to a stop outside a store. He puts down the kickstand and rolls up a jean leg to show Peridot his calf. “See?”

“No.”

“Give it some time, little guy.” He pats his calf and pulls the pant leg down.

“What is this place?”

“It’s a crafts store. You buy things to make other things here!”

“Like parts and raw materials?” Peridot brightens. “Could I purchase the items necessary to rebuild my limb enhancers?”

“Ha, well, sort of… you’ll see.”

A chime goes off somewhere in the depths of the store as they walk in, Peridot’s arm hooked through Steven’s. To her disappointment, there doesn’t seem to be much that she could transform into anything like her old limb enhancers: stacks of brightly colored pieces of paper, piles of textiles wound into round shapes, tools that could be classified as weapons, but are not ( _ not) _ weapons.

An old human with a large nose emerges from behind a shelf of paints. “Steven!”

“Grandy!” Steven scrambles over to give them a hug. “Hi! It’s been a while!”

“It certainly has. Are you here to help with the scenery for Jaime’s newest production?”

“No, but I brought a friend!” They turn to Peridot. Grandy is a tallish human with fluffy white hair and a very large pair of eyeglasses, dressed warmly in a sweater and vest despite the sunny day outside. “This is Peridot. Peridot, Grandy! They use neutral pronouns – they and them!”

They offer a hand. “How do you do, Peridot.”

“How do I do  _ what _ ?”

Grandy laughs while Steven looks as confused as Peridot feels.

“It’s an old form of salutation,” they say, taking Peridot’s hand and shaking it gently. “I’m glad to meet you, Peridot.”

Peridot looks at Steven and reads his lips.

“I am… glad to meet you, as well.” He shoots her a wink and a thumbs’ up; Grandy gives a small cackle as Peridot repeats the gesture back at Steven.

“You’re not here for Jaime’s scenery. So, what  _ are  _ you here for, my dears?”

“We want to make a present for somebody, but we don’t know what, yet. I thought you could help!”

“I could do that. But then you have to sing me another song.”

“Deal!” They shake on it with a grin.

Grandy moves, slow and stiff, to find some samples for them to consider.

 

First is a scarf, still attached to Grandy’s well-worn needles.

“A scarf is easy for beginners,” they say, holding it up for Peridot’s inspection, and knitting a row with easy, looping stitches. “I could teach you to knit in an afternoon.”

“It’s for keeping your neck warm when it gets cold,” adds Steven. “Connie would love that!”

“From what I have observed, Connie has an adequate number of personal garments, and anything _ I produce _ will not be of sufficient quality.”

Grandy stows the knitting behind the shop counter and shows Steven and Peridot how to fold an origami crane.

“What purpose does it serve?” asks Peridot.

“It doesn’t have one, it just looks nice,” says Steven. “You work hard on it and it looks pretty! That’s all.”

But Peridot is too utilitarian to give something for the sake of  _ pretty _ , even to a human, so they move on.

 

Steven at last finds something suitable: a rough, unpainted birdhouse.

“I can get her a book about birds, and then she can make friends with them!” he says. “Dot! What color do you want it to be?” When she doesn’t reply, he looks up from the birdhouse to see Peridot, her chin in her hand, apparently deep in thought. “What’s up?”

“Steven,” she says. “I don’t know anything about birds. The only time I have encountered one is when --”

“-- when it bird-bombed Lars! Ha! I’d forgotten about that. Classic!” Frowning at the interruption, she continues. 

“Yes, when it ‘bird-bombed’ the human Lars. And Connie has never indicated to me an interest in them.”

Steven shrugs. “So? Connie will like anything you make for her.”

“I think I understand what you mean,” says Grandy. “Steven -- and correct me if I am wrong, Peridot -- she means that birds don’t mean anything to her or Connie, so why would she make a gift of something birdlike?”

“Affirmative.”

“Ohhh! I get it now.”

Grandy pats Peridot’s arm. “That is very wise of you, my dear. Thoughtful gifts are the best.”

“Are they?” Peridot stands up straighter. “I intend to give only the best and highest quality gifts. Anything less would be insulting to Steven’s friend.”

“She’s going to like it, no matter what, but okay. So… what do you and Connie have in common?”

“Objectively, nothing. However, I have  _ observed _ that when Connie brings books over, she uses a small object to hold her place. It is decorated with words and colors to be both meaningful and pleasing to the eye. ...Assuming she would not find a second object with the same purpose undesirable, I propose we create one.” 

“ _ Peridot! _ ” Steven’s eyes are watering. “Connie would  _ love  _ a bookmark! _ ” _

“What? Why _ -wait-  _ positive or negative?” She chews on her lip, trying to read him. He gives her a thumbs up, before wrapping her in a bear hug.

“I’m so proud of you! Using your smarts to make somebody else happy!”

“I’ve been trying to do that all along, you clod,” mutters Peridot, looking away. He shakes his head and wipes his face on his sleeve.

 

At this point, Steven’s stomach rumbles, and he turns to Grandy, one arm still around Peridot. “We gotta go, Grandy. But can we come back tomorrow?”

“Sure. You better start working on that song,” they reply. “And wear clothes you don’t mind spilling paint on.”

“I got this! All of my shirts look exactly the same. And Peridot doesn’t wear clothes.”

Grandy gives Peridot a one-over. “Are you sure about that, Steven?”

“Affirmative.” Peridot stands up straight and tucks her arms behind her back. “I do not require any shirt. My physical form is adequately projected without any external appearance modifiers.”

“If you say so. Well, I open at nine. Get home safe!” Grandy escorts them to the door. 

 

The next morning, Grandy provides them with pieces of cardstock and some paint and brushes at a table stuffed into the back of the shop. Peridot makes bold little piles of color (organized according to the numbers on the tubes) on a paper plate and considers the blank canvas before her. This is, somehow, different from Steven’s nails yesterday. She looks over and sees him busily mixing reds on his paper plate.

“This is one of those things where there’s no correct answer?”

“That’s right. Just paint what makes you happy, with happy colors.”

Peridot eyes the paint doubtfully. None of them look very happy; anyway, it doesn’t make sense to ascribe emotions to inanimate objects. She needs more information. “What are  _ you _ doing?”

“Making a bookmark for Garnet! Look, here’s some pink for her, and some blue for Sapphire, and some red for Ruby!”

“Does Garnet even  _ read _ books?”

“Oh, I dunno. Maybe not. But she’ll like it anyway. She could put it on the fridge!” He works happily for a few more moments before noticing the lack of motion on Peridot’s side of the table. “Peridot?”

“It makes sense that Garnet would like the colors of herself, and the colors of her component gems. But Connie doesn’t have a gem. I don’t know what colors she would like.”

“Connie’s favorite color? Oh, I think, like, this minty greeny blue…” He checks through the tubes on the table. “No, you’d have to make it. Want me to help?”

“Go ahead.” 

He adds a smidgen of blue and green to her dollop of white and mixes it. The end result still has flecks of blue and green, but it’s not displeasing at all -- she applies it with broad strokes and is satisfied. A star of some sort is almost a given, so Steven shows her how to draw one in several angles; the outside is yellow, but the inside pink, for her sword. The other bookmark had words, and Peridot is stuck on what the words should be. Steven is in the bathroom when she falls into this rut, so she gets up to see if Grandy can help.

 

Grandy sits behind the counter, peering through their glasses at a tablet. 

“I need words,” says Peridot, going on tiptoes and putting her hands on the counter.

“Me too,” says Grandy. “Specifically, something with six letters that begins with ‘J.’”

“Why do you need a word with such specific parameters?” Grandy turns the tablet around and shows Peridot a grid with letters in it.

“Nanafua is up by thirty points.” Peridot scans the screen.

“A game of some sort?”

“Yes. That crafty little fox landed a Q on a triple word tile, and I have a rack full of guff.” They shake their head in disgust and set down the tablet. “If you need something with lots of ‘I’s and ‘N’s, I can help you. This is about the bookmark?”

“Yes. I need friendly words to put on it.”

“ _ Friendly _   words?”

“Words for friends. That won’t make her sad or angry.”

Grandy shakes their head again. “Big category. Well, here. Let’s look something up.” They turn on the tablet again, and together they look through friendship quotations. Most contain references or require context Peridot doesn’t understand, or are too big to put on the bookmark; in frustration, she finally screeches “ _ None of these say what I want to say!” _

“What do you want to say?”

“That I find her a competent combatant and a knowledgeable companion!”

“Well, why don’t you just say that, then? That probably wouldn’t make anyone sad or angry.”

Peridot blinks. “Oh!” She walks back to the table but, upon seeing Steven, remembers her manners and heads back. Grandy is still at the counter, muttering about the game from earlier.  

“Thanks,” she says, and gives a short wave.

“Yes,” replies Grandy. “You’re welcome. Let me know if…” The tablet gives a little beep, and they check it, eyes narrowing dangerously. “ _ Nanafua!... _ ”

 

Peridot adds in black letters, “I find you a competent combatant and knowledgeable companion.” Some of the letters go on the back, because she’d misjudged the spacing, and she misspells “knowledgeable” and has to paint over some other letters. Peridot’s stomach sinks as she looks over her efforts -- this doesn’t resemble Connie’s bookmark at all. Before she knows what she’s doing, the paper is crumpled up and smearing black paint all over her hands. 

Steven looks surprised and a bit alarmed, and Peridot tenses, expecting a lecture.

“Don’t,” she says, looking away and clenching her hands. “Just don’t, Steven. Please.” 

He nods and gets up to fetch her a new piece of cardstock while she goes to the bathroom to scrub her hands clean.

 

Bookmark Mark Two, as she calls it in her head, is better. Steven brings back a Sharpie, which is easier to write with, and the star looks firmer, too; while not perfect, it certainly looks… handmade, which Steven assures her is not only okay, but  _ desirable _ .  _ Valuable _ . She is helping him put away the supplies when she notices a pack of stickers sitting on a shelf. They’re the same little green faces she found on the shirt in the barn, and she wonders at finding them here, too. She brings them to Grandy and asks what they are.

“Space aliens,” they say. 

“They’re  _ not very accurate _ ,” says Peridot, eyeing them with new disdain.

“We all have our faults.” Peridot stares up at them, feeling vaguely like she’s being made fun of, but -- “Go ahead and use some. I can’t get anyone to buy them.”

She peels off one, and, after a moment’s consideration, puts it below the star.

 

The bicycle ride to the Mahaeswaren’s house is quiet. Peridot holds onto the bike with one hand and her bookmark with the other, and watches it flutter in the breeze, eyes troubled.

“Penny for your thoughts?” At Steven’s words, she looks over her shoulder at him and checks his hands.

“You’re not offering any currency.”

“It’s another... “ He concentrates on taking a turn and then resumes speaking. “Another… idiom. It means I want to know what’s on your mind, like an invitation. You can turn it down if you don’t want to talk! And,” he adds, “Let’s ask Connie to record the definition for your log, because she’s the one who gave me the definition in the first place.”

“That is a logical course of action. I accept your proposal.”

“Which one?”

“The second one.”

“Oh, okay.”

He pedals along in silence, concentrating on not babbling. Peridot talks more when he leaves an open invitation -- something he’d discovered when she woke him at three in the morning to ask him to explain an offhanded remark from Amethyst nearly twelve hours earlier. His reply had been sleepy and nonsensical, and he is trying to remember what it was that Amethyst had said when Peridot, in the present, speaks again, quietly.

“Even if Connie finds the gift displeasing, she will still use it?”

“Yeah.” Pause. “You’re really that worried Connie won’t like it?”

“Yes.”

“Well… I think that Connie will both like it and use it. But it’s okay to be nervous! You worked really hard on it, and you’re not sure if the other person will like it, but that’s what makes it really neat when they actually do like it! You’re happy because they’re happy. You’ll see.”

She doesn’t reply. The silence stretches on.

 

When they knock on the Mahaeswaren’s door, Connie answers, a pen stuck behind one ear. “Steven! Peridot! Hello!” She glances behind her, and steps out onto the front step, closing the door behind her. “Dad’s in a conference call, so we can talk out here for now. What’s up?”

“We brought something for you! Here.” Steven nudges Peridot, who looks strained; mutely, she hands the bookmark to Connie and ducks behind Steven. 

“Are you okay, Peridot?” asks Connie, not even looking at the gift. “You kind of look like you’re going to throw up…”

“I don’t have the physical capacity to vomit,” says Peridot, stiff as a board behind Steven, who looks just as concerned as Connie.

“Even so…” 

“I think she’d feel better if you looked at your present,” whispers Steven.

“Oh, got it! Sorry, Peridot.” Connie holds it up and takes it in. “Ahh, a new bookmark! How pretty!” She reads the text and then notices the green sticker. “Hey! Is this you?”

“I am a real alien--this icon encapsulates Earth ideas of aliens.” Peridot swallows, and tries to explain her idea. “It is inaccurate but accurate.”

“Because it’s green?”

“...Yes.”

“Well, I like it,” says Connie firmly. “Your words are very kind, Peridot. Being a ‘competent combatant’ is important to me, and being knowledgeable is good! I’m glad you think of me that way. There’s no reason to hide, I’m happy! Thank you!” She opens her arms. “Hug?”

Peridot considers it, and looks at Steven for guidance. He nods, and she holds out her fist instead. “Bump?”

“Bump,” replies Connie as their knuckles touch. “This is so nice. To celebrate my new bookmark, do you guys have enough time to read another chapter?”

“Heck  _ yes! _ ” says Steven, and though Peridot doesn’t really understand the story (not having paid attention to the first chapters), she does like seeing her bookmark and her words nestled alongside those that Connie and Steven love. They sit and listen to the story on the front stoop until Mr. Mahaeswaren invites them in for lunch.

 

Later, back at the house, Steven convinces Peridot to play guitar with him.

“Let’s just improvise and see what happens. Just follow my lead and I know something  _ awesome  _ will happen. Just join in whenever it feels right. Take it for a walk, as Dad says.”

He begins playing, selecting sounds at what seems like random. The prospect of stepping in and adding her guitar’s voice to the chaos is overwhelming, but not unmanageable. She bites her lip and plays something in the same key, but falters at tempo. At her request, he begins visibly tapping his foot to help her find the beat; they move along together, her melody tentatively shadowing his own, until she becomes confident enough to take the lead. He bobs his head at her and allows her to forge ahead. It goes well until she grows overconfident and mangles a chord and she stops, mortified, and looks over. Steven crosses his eyes and sticks his tongue out as he deliberately strikes his own wrong note, and continues playing, but quieter.

“Dad told me that there’s no wrong way to take a walk, but sometimes you trip over cracks,” he says. “It doesn’t ruin the walk, but sometimes tripping makes you feel silly. That was his way of teaching me that mistakes are normal, even when you’re good at something.” 

Peridot sighs and clutches at her guitar. “When will I be done with _ learning things _ ?”

“ _ Never _ ,” sings Steven in harmony with a chord. “Learning is for everybody! I taught Grandy how to use a tablet, and Garnet is still learning how to be a leader, and they’re both  _ super old _ . Hey! Why don’t we make our song about learning?”

“Because everyone’s tired of it?”

“Speak for yourself. I  _ love _ learning! Now are you going to get up and finish the walk, or not?” She sighs and joins him again.

After some more experimentation, they settle into an easy rhythm, batting scraps of melody back and forth and offering refinements. Steven solidifies the tune and begins to try out different phrases. Peridot doesn’t have the capacity yet to integrate voice into melodic playing, and so reverts to complimentary chords and hums along. When Steven stumbles over a phrase and loses his train of thought, she strums a warning chord --  _ pay attention! -- _ and repeats the motif to him. Within a few moments, it’s like they’ve been playing all day, and it feels like they could never stop. 

“An Earth experience you can’t miss,” she thinks, or maybe says aloud; Steven laughs and says it, too, and everything dissolves into bubbles of light.

 

Someone new looks down at their arms -- all four of them -- cradling two guitars, one acoustic, one electric.

“ _ Sweet _ ,” they say. Just the right amount of guitars. Number of guitars? Number. That makes sense. Does it? Well, as much as anything else. They can feel Steven and Peridot somewhere in their throat, like golden sunlight caught in water. “This is the best,” they decide, and punctuate the sentence with a strong chord on both instruments. “Too bad Amethyst and Garnet and Pearl aren’t he…” Before the sentence leaves their mouth entirely, their eyes -- all four of them! -- settle on Steven’s smart phone.

*

The fusion holds the phone up and hits record. 

“Hey guys. This is Citrine! We wanted to leave a message because Peridot doesn’t think she can do this for very long. But we--I!- have made something for you!  _ Get ready _ .” 

The image of Citrine blurs as they set the phone down, and the focus settles on them, framed with sunset light from the front windows. The lower pair of arms, holding the acoustic guitar, improvise an introduction; the upper pair settles for chords on the electric guitar.

“ _ We _ ,” they sing, and their voice seems to split, Steven’s gentle voice underneath Peridot’s reedy tone, “ _ are an earth experience you can’t miss. _ But,” they add, with a little sigh, “you have to.” Their eyes close, and they disappear with a bang and a flash of golden light.

*

“I’m sorry I missed them,” says Garnet as the video ends. She reaches over to ruffle Steven’s hair. “You looked pretty cool.”

“I’m sure you’ll meet Citrine sometime! Peridot didn’t seem to mind, which is good.” Steven’s smile is a little shaky. “I was worried, after…”

“Me, too. But I think things will be fine.” Garnet stands up and hands the phone back to Steven. “I’ll go talk to her before Pearl and Amethyst get home. And it’s your night to make dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS! Thank you so much for the comments! Fish, flowerpot, suspendinaction, butnotongue, tsuriau - thank you! I've read your comments dozens of times and they've kept me writing. Thank you again and keep them coming!
> 
> Many thanks and good health to chibistarlyte, who beta'd and offered feedback worth its virtual weight in gold. Despite her efforts, this chapter is not as good as 1 or 2, but I didn't want to keep you waiting / wait to write any of the other chapters any longer. Because after this, it gets good. 
> 
> Chapter four is in progress. Please leave a comment; even just "This is an extra kudos" would make my day! And thank you so much for reading!


	4. Gone in the Rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Sugilite, and a lot of things go to hell. Currently unbetaed. Extended chapter notes available at http://kettledroid.tumblr.com/post/144238530399/stringslines-4-is-up

It is the middle of the night when Pearl rouses Steven from a deep sleep.

“Wake up, Steven. We have a mission.”

Steven moans, sits up, rubs at his eyes. Pearl hands him a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and his bike helmet.

“Put these on. I’ll go get Peridot.”

Steven’s yawn stops halfway out of his mouth.

“Are you… okay now?”

She gives him a strained smile, and jumps down from Steven’s bedroom.

“We try not to let our feelings get in the way of saving the Earth. We’ll manage.”

 

Peridot answers the bathroom door, a musical theory book in her hand; she steps back from the door at the sight of Pearl, her greeting dying on her lips.

Garnet appears beside Pearl, and sticks her foot in the door before Peridot can slam it.

“Not tonight, Peridot,” she says. “We don’t always have the time to sort out our feelings before the planet needs us. We may need you, we may not. Are you coming?”

Peridot winces, clutching the book to her chest, and takes a moment to control her emotions. She nods at Garnet, who smiles.

“That’s a Gem.”

 

Amethyst is waiting at the warp pad, looking impatient and eager.

“C’mon, Steven, _let’s go_!”

Peridot stands at the back of the pad, out of Pearl’s view as they wait for Steven. She touches Amethyst’s arm softly, trying to avoid provoking her. (Not provoking. Not provoking. Peridot is playing by the rules.)

“Why are you so excited about this mission?”

“It’s called the Colossus.It’s some old corrupted Gem technology that comes back every hundred years and wrecks up this old canyon. It’s big, and it’s bad, and do you know what that means?”

Peridot shakes her head.

Amethyst grins and stretches out her hands, palms out, her one visible eye wild and gleeful. “ _We_ get to be big and bad.”

 

They warp out to some kind of tundra -- endless stony fields and scrubby flora, bright with late morning sun. Steven squawks with dismay at the sudden light and scrubs at his eyes; Garnet looks around, and gestures to the right.

“This way, team. Stay alert.”

Amethyst jogs next to her, too excited to pretend to be cool; Pearl guards Garnet’s other flank, Steven at her heels. For her part, Peridot doesn’t like the vast emptiness of this place, and sticking with Steven as he walks with Pearl is out of the question; she catches up to Garnet to walk beside her, one hand resting on Garnet’s thigh. Garnet gives her a reassuring thumbs’ up, and they both start scanning the horizon.

They crest a slight ridge -- the other side is a sheer cliff, and in the canon (more like a valley)  they see it:  the Colossus looks like a tower with legs, large and acridly yellow; they pause at the cliff edge to gauge the situation.

“It looks _bigger_ than before,” says Pearl, shading her eyes. “How is that possible?”

“Can’t have gotten smarter,” says Amethyst. “Not after the whuppin’  we gave it last time. Garnet?”

“ _Something’s_ different... but Amethyst and I can still take it. Peridot, do you recognize this?”

“No.” To Peridot’s eyes, the Colossus lacks the codified geometry of most Gem creations--the angles of the thing are wrong. Haphazard. “It looks like somebody just melted some rocks and metal together.”

“Correct,” says Garnet. “It was the final Homeworld attempt to mobilize Gem technology against fusions.” She smiles and adjusts her sunglasses. “Didn’t work.”

“It’s my favorite punching bag,” adds Amethyst. “Sucks that it takes a hundred years to regenerate. If we could, I’d fight this thing, like, every week.”

Pearl clicks her tongue in disapproval.

“She doesn’t like it because she has the most boring part,” Amethyst stage-whispers to Steven.

“Does only Sugilite fight it?”

“None of Rose’s fusions really needed the practice. Garnet and I can handle ourselves. Opal isn’t the ideal opponent for it, but Amethyst is so much younger than the rest of us, so…”

“Sugilite.” Garnet looks at Amethyst. “Ready?”

“Ready!”

 

Their dance is a flashy series of hand and hip motions; Garnet and Amethyst spiral around each other at the cliff edge until indigo-violet flames engulf them, burning and rippling through the air to form Sugilite, feet planted in the valley, sunglasses level with the remaining Gems.

“What’s up, losers?” she asks, cracking her knuckles with some loud pops. “Is it already that time of the century, or could you just not wait to see me again?” She catches Pearl wincing at the knuckles noise. “ _What_?”

“You know what.”

Sugilite considers that, her one visible eye crinkled in dark amusement. “I do know what, baby. What do you think of this instead?” She makes a rude hand gesture with all four hands, and Pearl chokes with indignance.

“ _Where did you learn that?_ You know what, never mind. We’re here for a reason. Get your weapon ready and let’s do this.”

“Ha! I don’t need you to tell me what to do.” Sugilite’s attention abruptly shifts to Peridot, who stands behind Steven, mouth open, hands holding onto Steven’s elbow. “Hey, short stuff. Watch this--I’ve got a hot date with a boulder.”

Another burst of violet fire and a massive flail appears, crashing to the valley ground. With it comes the sharp smell of ozone, and when Peridot looks down, she sees that Steven’s arms are pimpled with gooseflesh.

“I’m right behind you,” says Pearl pointedly; Sugilite snorts and stomps towards the Colossus, the flail hoisted on one massive shoulder.

 

“She actually seems less terrifying than last time,” remarks Steven, patting Peridot’s hand. “It’s okay.”

“That’s really Garnet and Amethyst?”

Pearl’s eyes are locked on Sugilite’s retreating back, but she tenses a little at Peridot’s voice, as though she’d forgotten Peridot was there. “More or less,” she says. “Well, more, obviously.”

“They danced differently than last time,” adds Steven.

“Good observation, Steven! They’ve been practicing keeping better control of themselves, individually. We’re hoping to put her back in the combat lineup, if all three of them can handle this without getting carried away.”

 

Pearl spends a few moments explaining the exercise. The tower’s surface was protected by a tight field that resisted impact (“You can think of it as the inside surface of a bubble, another idea they stole from us towards the end of the war”) which Pearl would come in to disable when Sugilite got tired of throwing herself at it.

“We don’t use any other Gem stuff for practice,” says Steven. “Aren’t you afraid that it’ll hurt somebody?”

“Rose decided to keep it,” replies Pearl, her eyes growing momentarily misty. “She said we needed something big to push against, in case… well, to keep getting better. And it’s not sentient, Steven. It’s closer to old Gem structures, powered by a Gem, but not thinking, just responding.” She waves an airy hand. “We keep it in line. You’ll see.”

Sugilite makes first contact with the Colossus, and the sound the flail makes on the yellow field sends the hairs up on Steven’s arms again. It comes alive, swinging massive arms laden with spiked balls; Sugilite blocks the hit with one massive forearm and laughs, saying something derogatory--the words are indistinguishable at this distance--and offers a massive punch in return.

“You said you wanted to see Sugilite again,” says Pearl, a little smugly, as she watches him watching the fight. “And this time, you’re wearing a helmet.”

“Thanks, Pearl! I’m safe like a turtle in here.” Steven knocks on the bike helmet. “I kinda wish I’d brought binoculars, though…”

“Being prepared is an advantage for a warrior.” Her tone is bossy, but softens abruptly. “But we wanted to surprise you. Here.” With a small flash of light, Pearl extracts a pair of binoculars from her gem. Steven yelps with delight and tackles Pearl with a hug; they sit down together, Steven in Pearl’s lap, to watch the fight.

 

A few yards behind them, Peridot sits, her arms wrapped under her knees. She watches the back of Pearl’s head warily, afraid it will snap around, and Pearl will say something. This is, after all, the first time they’d seen more than five seconds of each other, since… Her. Since they’d… fused.

The bitterness in Peridot’s chest is older now, but no less strong, and she doesn’t have words to explain it. Garnet had tried, offered words and suggestions, Amethyst had lent her an old megaphone to yell her words through, and Steven had tried, too, post-Citrine, to make it make sense. He’d sensed the flaw in her, offered something… she buries her head against her knees and tries to stop thinking, wills her mind to slow down.

In the distance, she hears a roar. Her head jerks up to see Sugilite and the Colossus vanish into a cloud of smoke and dust, Sugilite’s shades knocked off by one swinging, stony appendage.

“That’s not good! ” Pearl leaps to her feet, still holding Steven, and deposits him next to Peridot. “ _Watch each other, and don’t move._ ” They blink and she’s gone, only the glint of her spear visible as she jumps into the canyon.

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” asks Steven, putting his binoculars up to his eyes and squinting to try to see past the screen of dust. Peridot sighs, mutters something about him having access to better data, and walks away, arms crossed over her chest. She considers going back to the warp pad, and then back to the bathroom; she wishes for the power and speed of her limb enhancers as she kicks a stray rock out of her way.

 

Engrossed in her thoughts, Peridot doesn’t feel the ground start to shake; instead, she distantly notices the rock she’d just kicked begin to tremble. “Steven--” she says, the name lost in a deafening _crack_ and a spray of dirt as something bursts from the earth. Stumbling back, one hand coming up to protect her gem, she falls over to see Steven, encased in a pink bubble, clutched in one massive, yellow, metallic claw. She screams his name again as she scrambles backwards, and then _Garnet_ , and _Amethyst_ , and _Pearl_ for good measure, but they’re too far away to do anything for her.

 

In the bubble, Steven has his hands thrown up, supporting it, his face shiny with sweat as he holds the claw away from himself. He spares a moment to look around for Peridot; they lock eyes, and though she can’t hear whatever it is he’s yelling, she does manage to catch the strained thumbs’ up before he goes back to concentrating, pushing outwards.

With that sign, the rational parts of Peridot reassert themselves, and she takes in what’s attached to the claw--a bulky, tubular body made of rock and metal and a few other arms, similarly clawed. She pulls the slingshot from her gem and lets loose a few volleys, to no effect against its yellow, crackling body--this _thing_ is clearly related to the Colossus.

It doesn’t appear too interested in her; all of its attention is focused on piercing Steven’s bubble. She looks past it to see Sugilite still pummeling the tower, now plain and grey, and Pearl’s silhouette at a safe distance. Peridot considers aiming her slingshot at Pearl to gain her attention, but the slingshot doesn’t have that kind of range. She has another option, but using a plain sling is harder for her and she hasn’t practiced enough to make an accurate shot.

Peridot wastes a few moments trying to convert her already-summoned slingshot before tossing it away and pulling a plain sling from her gem. Pushing her growing panic down, she winds up and lets loose. The shot falls short and she curses, thinks about it, and summons another piece of ammunition, this one hollow and with holes. It sails through the air, emitting an eerie scream through the valley. Again, it falls short, but Pearl hears and looks around for the source of the noise. She turns, takes in the situation, and returns at a run; her spear glints in the sunlight as it strikes the claw holding Steven.  No effect, though Peridot hadn’t really expected it would have any at all.

 

It was just her and Pearl again, and she throws her sling aside and runs at Pearl. “ _For Steven!_ ” she yells, and she sees understanding and wariness and determination flicker through Pearl’s luminous eyes the second before she launches herself into Pearl’s arms.

 

 _Not Pearl, Not Peridot_ comes into being with a pop, scared and humiliated by the abrupt memory of her last existence and held so tightly by her components that if she had needed to breathe, she couldn’t have. The situation calls for expertise and control, and she has none, so she let go: The part of her called Pearl drags her limbs backwards, and _Not Pearl, Not Peridot_ looks up at the Colossus. It is very large, and it has Steven, which is why she is here.

She can tolerate existing if it is for Steven.

Something falls into place and suddenly, she can think as a whole. Her thoughts speed up and time slows down, and she thinks through a dozen ideas, very few of which she has the finesse to pull off. As another arm reached for Steven, the solution makes itself clear.

The shape of the thing is easy; Pearl calls it a crossbow, and _Not Pearl, Not Peridot_ borrows the details from her memory, pulls them into reality with a twist of energy. The bolt, though, that is harder. Peridot’s reedy voice insists, over and over, _two prongs, two prongs, two prongs… we’ve got to have two prongs…_

She gives it two prongs. The bolt hums and glows in the crossbow, and her hands shake as she puts it up to her shoulder to aim. She kneels, seeking some stability by lowering her center of gravity, and does her best to aim--fortunately, her target is large. The bolt screams through the air, echoing Peridot’s earlier shot, and hits the Colossus near its base. The Colossus’ actions sputter and stutter as a web of green lines rips across it, and the thing groans with rock and metal and gem as it surrenders its animation. The fusion is knocked back by the force of the shot, but is up in a flash, clawing her way towards Steven.

She catches him mid-fall and they land heavily, Not Pearl, Not Peridot rolling across the ground, Steven’s head cradled against her neck. As the dust settles, she sits up, checks on Steven. He’s still pale, and trembling with fear, but otherwise unharmed. Their eyes (his two, her four) meet, and she feels him quivering.

“You did it,” he says, trying to sound happy.

She looks away, and creates a plate to cover her face. She’s no Malachite, whose limbs were formed with impersonal strength and mislike; the nature of her facial mutation is too deeply personal for a Gem (or a fusion) so young to comprehend.

“Hey, don’t--”

She hears something big moving quickly, time slows down again as she looks up.

It’s Sugilite’s flail, bearing down on them.

This solution is easier than the other. With mingled relief and fear, she lets herself go, the force of her dissolution forcing Peridot, Pearl, and Steven out of the way of the flail’s impact.

 

It never strikes. Sugilite unfuses mid-scream, and Garnet and Amethyst stand there, panting and dusty, bodies rigid. Pearl sits there, shocked and speechless.

“What…?”

Amethyst bursts into tears, crumpling into the ground. Garnet makes no move to comfort her, frozen in place.

Peridot grabs Steven and they run to the remains of the Colossus, searching through the debris for something to bubble. They find a yellow gem that looks like a fragment of a larger one, and with Steven’s nod, Peridot bubbles it away. The other gem, the one Sugilite had been carrying, has fallen nearby; Steven takes care of it. The tradition of fighting the Colossus dies with one pink bubble and one lime.

They return to see Amethyst wrapped up in Pearl’s arms, both sobbing, and Garnet rooted beside them.

“What happened?” demands Steven, skidding to the ground next to them.

“She misses Rainbow Quartz,” says Garnet, her voice choked. “Steven, she misses your mother.”

 

An hour later, Peridot sits on the floor of the house, arms wrapped under her knees, studying the portrait of Rose Quartz.

“You survived,” says Garnet, sitting down beside her. “You fused, and you fought, and you came back instead of staying poofed. And you saved Steven. Good work.”

She had also bubbled something for the first time. It had been a mission of firsts, but so little of it is really relevant to anything. The sun is rising outside the house, and Steven is pretending to be asleep above them, and Pearl and Amethyst are in their respective rooms, and Rose Quartz is years gone but still powerful somehow, and Peridot is so tired.

“Let’s talk later,” says Garnet. “You worked hard. You should rest. But we’re not leaving you alone this time. You’re a Crystal Gem, we work things out together. Understand?”

“Yes.”

Garnet touches Peridot’s hair, mussing it gently, before getting up and going into the temple.

 

Steven slithers down the stairs, blanket draped over his shoulders and a book clutched in his hands. He sits down next to her and offers the blanket. The warmth is unnecessary but pleasant, and hides her face from the world.

“I never knew my mom,” he says. “Just the sad things she left behind for me.” He curls around himself. “I keep finding them, no matter where I go. I hope they stop someday.”

Peridot has nothing to say to that, so she doesn’t.

“Look at this.” Steven opens the book, and shows her a cool green gem. “I think this is you and Pearl. Prehnite.”

“Did you go looking for us in that book?” Peridot huffs a small laugh. “You clod.”

“I never got to ask her name. I want to know her.”

“You were scared of her.”

“You were afraid of Sugilite.”

“Accurately. Steven, can you deny that Prehnite was frightening?”

Steven thinks back to that face, horrified at its own horror. His stomach cramps at the thought of it, but his heart hurts more at the thought of the mask she’d made to cover it, the shame written there. “No.”

Peridot nods once.

“Can you talk to Pearl now, at least?”

“I’ll try.”

That’s good enough. Steven retreats to bed and passes out immediately, and Peridot falls asleep in front of the Rose Quartz portrait, still wrapped in the blanket.

 

In the depths of the temple, Garnet walks into Amethyst’s room. Amethyst is shrouded in her hair and half buried in a pile of junk.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” she says, not looking at Garnet.

“Too bad.”

“Too bad, whatever.” Amethyst scowls and retreats further into the junk. “You’re just relieved you don’t have to force her to fuse, since Rose isn’t here to do it.”

Garnet frowns at her. All three of her--Ruby, Sapphire, and Garnet-- are furious at her words, and ashamed at their truth. “That’s not the point. Are you going to tell Peridot how you feel?”

“Go away.”

“We can’t form Sugilite any more if your jealousy jeopardizes the team.”

“ _Go away!_ ”

“Will you talk with Pearl about it?”

“I won’t talk with anybody about it! Leave me alone!” Amethyst bursts from the pile and runs from the room, the temple door somehow slamming behind her.

 

Garnet consults her future vision, shakes her head, and leaves the room to find something to punch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all of my lovely commenters! splash_mob, tsuriau, f0rt1ss1m0, Laura, Fish, plaguedoctor, underdebate: you are so kind to leave me with comments, I've read each so many times, thank you for your support!! :)) To all my other readers: thank you for leaving kudos! Please consider writing a few words, even just "heyo, this is an extra kudos" makes my day. Seriously, half the views on this story are from me reading comments. (which is pretty impressive, because this story has a ton of views?? and bookmarks??? THANK YOU!!)
> 
> See extended notes at http://kettledroid.tumblr.com/post/144238530399/stringslines-4-is-up
> 
> This is currently unbetaed, it will be by extravirginwriting whenever he can get to it!, but I felt weirdly pressured to put out another chapter before May 12th. See you on the other side of In Too Deep, my friends. May Sugar have mercy on our souls.


	5. Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What I have written for chapter 5, and some closing up notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has received some comments, people wondering where it went... it didn't go anywhere, really! See my tumblr for more notes and explanations. https://kettledroid.tumblr.com/post/154275790464/stringslines-chapter-5-fin
> 
> This is all I wrote for chapter 5 before my passion for this fic went out. I know a lot of people still enjoyed it, so I wanted to give you everything I had before bowing out. For chapter and story notes, you can check out my tumblr (again).
> 
> Thank you all so very much for coming along with me.  
> xx, skitterdwell

 

It’s late afternoon, and Peridot is sitting on Steven’s bed, trying to complete a video game level he can’t beat. It _would_ be just an arbitrary order of button-pressing and stick-maneuvering, but having watched Steven complete all the previous levels, she’s invested in the story – so much that, thirty tries in, she’s not even frustrated yet.

She’s saying the dialogue along with the cutscene on try thirty one when Steven’s phone rings. Peridot looks over at it, still mouthing the words; seeing that it’s Greg, and that Steven isn’t around, she slides it closer and answers, selecting the speakerphone option.

“Peridot,” she says, pushing the buttons to tell the cutscene to move on, the dialogue still scrolling through her mind on pace with the television.

“Uhh, hi Peridot. Are you at home?”

“Yes. But Steven is training with Connie and Pearl at the sky arena.”

“It kinda sounds like there’s other people there.”

“That’s just Skyler, renouncing Zehnor,” she says. “He won’t let her have Karrie.”

“Is that a new… TV show?”

“A video game.”

“I’m no use at that.” He sounds tired, and heaves a sigh into the phone. “Well, when Pearl gets back, could you have her and Steven call me? Some of the machinery at the car wash is going haywire, and I’d like her to come look at it before I open tomorrow.”

“I’ll do it. I’m a Homeworld certified technician; I can certainly handle any Earth technology malfunctions.”

“Well…” Greg sounds reluctant, but Peridot has already shut off the television and the game console. “Okay. But will you leave them a note anyway? Pearl has a little more experience with human stuff; you two could work together.”

Peridot makes a small “nehh” noise, and shifts into a defensive posture, arms crossed across her chest, before she can stop herself. “Unlikely, but possible. I’ll leave a message.”

“Thanks, Peridot. Don’t bring anything, I should have all the tools we need at the wash.”

“Noted. Peridot. Signing off.”

“See you in a little bit. Bye.”

She closes the application, leaves the device on Steven’s bed, and crosses to the kitchen to leave a note on the refrigerator whiteboard. There are five markers of different colors corresponding to the Gems–Steven’s idea, of course; he’s the only one who uses it regularly. Pink stars decorate the corners, and Amethyst had contributed a leaky doodle in purple; Peridot’s never bothered with to write on it before.

WENT TO GREG’S CAR WASH TO FIX MACHINES. SEND PEARL TO FOLLOW UP.

She pauses then. The green and the handwriting clearly indicate that it is her leaving the message, and she would be gone to enforce the point, but…

PERIDOT

Redundancy for the sake of clarity is forgivable. They would understand. Well, Pearl might.

 

The afternoon is cool as she walks across the beach. Amethyst had informed her about the seasonal climate fluctuations, consistent with the planetary tilt relevant to its star, but today is the first day she notices it, and her recorder is still back at the Temple; logging this detail will have to wait.

 

Greg is sitting in the trunk of his van, clad in an old hoodie when she reaches the wash.

“Hi, Peridot.”

“Hello. Bump,” she replies, holding out her fist.

“Bump. Thanks for coming out.”

“I’m pleased to help you, as you have invested a great deal of energy in improving my guitar playing. Our relationship should be mutually beneficial.”

“You won’t catch me complaining. Are you ready to take a look?”

If Peridot had sleeves, she would roll them up. “Lead me to it.”

 Greg leads her to the wash, a wall of windows inside the building that allow them to look into the washing garage itself, and turns it on to show the problem. There’s some some guttural mechanical moaning, and a shower of sparks from one of the machines; all of it sends Greg’s hair on end, and he shuts it off within a few seconds. Peridot is unrattled, however, and asks Greg to turn on one other unit.

“I _think_ I understand the problem, though to be _sure_ , I want to compare it to a functional one.”

“You can tell from listening?”

She stares at him, unimpressed at his reaction. “Peridots have exceptional auditory perception. It is an attribute that improves our diagnostic capability. To you, that means I’m good at tuning guitars.”

“I guess I knew that, huh… well, here goes.” He flips a switch; Peridot listens, chin in hand, and asks him to run the malfunctioning unit again, until she flaps a hand at him to stop.

“Should be a simple fix. Let’s go in.”

Greg hauls a ladder into the wash and sets it up near the broken unit. Unfortunately, however, Peridot is too short to reach the site of the problem, even boosted.

“ _Limb enhancers_ ,” she mutters as she storms down the ladder. “I’m _useless_ without them!”

“Hey, Pearl’s coming, right? She’ll be able to reach it, no problem.” Peridot glares at him. “Uh, I’m just gonna call Steven to see if they’re on their way.”

 

After seven rings, the call is picked up.

“Hello?” asks a cool voice.

“Garnet! Is Pearl there?”

“No, she is not. Why?”

“I need her help at the car wash. Peridot was supposed to leave a message?”

“Oh, hm.” Greg hears the sounds of footsteps and the faint whoosh of air as Garnet stoops to examine the fridge message board. “Yes… Peridot can’t help you?”

“We need somebody with a little more…height.”

Peridot hisses something in the background.

“I will come over.”

Greg stutters into the phone, but before he can say anything, the line goes dead. He sighs, tucks the phone into his shorts, and sits down beside Peridot.

“What’s the deal with your robot arms, anyway? I remember Amethyst telling me she threw them into the ocean.”

“Robot legs, also.” _Robot_ is how Steven and Greg prefer to describe most things mechanical; the shorthand is inaccurate yet comfortable and consistent to them, and is thus acceptable to Peridot. (She’s made _so many_ exceptions for everybody during her stay at Earth, it’s hard to believe she still bothers with the rules at all.) “I was made to function in them. It’s much harder, being without.” She looks down at her hands and flexes them, apparently lost in her thoughts.

“Made, like your hearing makes you good at diagnosing problems?”

“Exactly. Having my capabilities compromised makes me feel incomplete.”

“So all Peridots are married to the job?”

She squints at him. “ _Ye-es_? If I am interpreting your idiom correctly.” She points at his legs. “How would you like to have your legs cut off above the knees?”

“Yikes, point taken.”

Silence envelops them.

“So, how are things going?”

“As expected. I broke two strings yesterday, but my overall agility and ability has increased at a rate I find acceptable.”

“I meant with the other Gems. Steven hasn’t mentioned anything specific lately, so I was wondering if everything was okay?” He catches her confused look. “I care more than you think, Peridot. You guys are important to me, even if we all don’t get along all the time.”

“You don’t get along?”

By the tone of her voice, he can tell that he’s snagged onto something. “Nah. Not even close, sometimes. Amethyst and I butt heads every now and then. Pearl doesn’t dislike me as much as she used to – gosh! We can be in the same room at the same time without a fight brewing today. Wasn’t always like that, let me tell you.”

Peridot curls up, wrapping her arms around her knees. “What changed? What made everything better?”

“Oh, just time, I think.” Greg scratches under his hoodie collar absentmindedly. “Steven, too. Kids change things, you know.”

She doesn’t.

“Well, I mean… priorities change, over time. And when there’s a baby, you see how small and helpless they are, and you realize that taking care of them is more important than a lot of other things.”

“I still don’t get it.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. You haven’t been here very long yet, and you have a long, long life ahead of you. Things’ll shake out if you let them.”

Peridot shakes her head, tucks her chin onto her knees. “I used to be able to fix things myself. Or if I couldn’t, there was somebody else to do it. But it never took very long.”

“Peridot.”

She looks up at her name.

“You can talk to me about this stuff, it’s okay. Steven does, and sometimes Connie does, too. But I’m going to tell you the most important piece of human knowledge anybody on Earth has. You don’t have to keep it a secret, but you have to pay attention, okay?”

Peridot nods and straightens, readying herself to receive this information.

“You can’t fix people. Not humans, not Gems.”

“So what do I _do_? That doesn’t tell me what I should _do_.”

Greg straightens out his legs with a small grunt, and considers Peridot’s question.

“Be kind. Try to understand. And give it time. You can’t solve everything in ten minutes.”

A low growl is Peridot’s only response.

“Guess I’m not very good at this.”

She shakes her head at him. “No. You are very good. Steven passes on your advice all the time. I’m the one who’s not very good.”

 

Before Greg can reply to that, Garnet walks in.

“Hello, you two.” She looks down at them, sitting on the floor, and offers a tiny smile. “Heard you need some height.”

Greg begins to stand up with Peridot, but she puts a hand up to stop him. “We got this.” She retrieves up her discarded tools, and Garnet picks her up in one enlarged fist, her arm stretching to position Peridot near the ceiling.

 “So. Greg. How are you?”

“After this is done, I’ll be good. Got a book I want to finish tonight, unless Peridot wants to stick around for a lesson.”

(This isn’t the weirdest thing he’s seen a Gem doing while holding a conversation with her, but it’s in Greg’s top ten.)

“She won’t. We have someplace to be after this.”

At Garnet’s words, Peridot cranes her neck around to look at her. “We do?”

“Yes. Go back to work.” Garnet’s smile deepens. “It’s a surprise.”

“What is it?” asks Greg.

“Don’t know. That’s what makes it a surprise.”

“Down, I need a new tool.”  In response, Garnet hefts up the entire toolbox with her other hand. After more tinkering and some trials, it’s done; no more hair-raising noises, no more sparks. Greg heaves a sigh of relief, fist-bumps Peridot, and waves them off into Beach City.

 

“Would you like to hold hands tonight?” Garnet asks as they round the corner. Peridot would, as it turns out. Holding hands with Garnet is like linking arms with Steven, or a thumbs’ up from Amethyst, or bumping fists with Sour Cream or Greg: concrete, nonverbal reassurances that all is well between them. The only thing that could improve holding hands would be less height disparity between the two of them, so Peridot wouldn’t have to trot quite as much to keep up with Garnet (she keeps her free arm tucked to her side to improve aerodynamic efficiency, despite Amethyst’s snort whenever she sees this).

“So… where are we going?”

“To the craft store. I was told you knew where it is.”

“Yeah. Why are we going?”

“Just before Greg called, somebody else did. She wanted you to come to her store, to pick something up.”

“The correct pronouns for referring to that human are _they_ and _them_.”

“I see. They didn’t tell me that.”

They keep walking, and after a few beats, Peridot remembers something.

“Hey! If you were right next to Steven’s phone because you had just spoken to Grandy, why did it take you so long to answer Greg?”

“I couldn’t decide if I wanted to, or not.” She grins to herself. “Good thing I did.”

“You’re awfully pleased with yourself.”

“Can’t help it. I’m just so great. You’re pretty great, too, for a clod.”

Amethyst has begun referring to Peridot as a clod affectionately; Peridot can’t decide if it’s deeply flattering or intensely aggravating. She’s lost in her thoughts, trying to figure out how the Gems adopting her word makes her _feel_ , when Garnet squeezes her hand.

“You okay?” she asks, when Peridot looks up at her. Peridot blushes blue and gives a thumbs’ up, and they walk on in companionable silence.

 

Grandy greets them at the store door, and has them wait while she fishes behind the counter for something. It’s a piece of knitting, a triangle of marbled yarn.

“I know you don’t wear clothes,” they say, “but it is getting into autumn. You’ll need something extra. What do you think?”

“It’s for me?” Peridot reaches out to touch it. The loops are smooth and regular, and the colors bright and lively. “What is it? What’s it for?”

“A kerchief. It goes around your neck.” They lift it a little, and Peridot reads the accompanying chin tilt as prelude to a question. “Would you like to try it on?”

“Yes!”

“Turn around, and close your eyes,” they direct Peridot. She does, and the garment settles on her chest and around her neck. Grandy ties it with a simple knot, directs her to stay still, and then holds something else to Peridot’s back.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing. Don’t turn around.” They make a small tsk noise, and the feeling vanishes. “Okay, now turn.” They survey their handiwork. “Hmm. The colors are bright for autumn, but then, you _are_ pea green. What do you think?”

Peridot’s never worn something against her neck before. It’s odd: the yarn is soft, the loops neverending, and the slight weight… she looks down at it and stops.

 

She thinks about Steven’s T-shirts, and Connie’s dresses. Sour Cream’s pants that can transform into shorts, Vidalia’s slippers, Greg’s hoodie, Grandy’s own heavy sweater. Facts line up with ideas, and she finds tears in her eyes. It’s not coincidence that the Crystal Gems wear stars, and she, a diamond. And it’s not an accident that an aged, caring human gives her a handmade garment without either of those things. “Earth clothes,” she whispers, her voice tight.

 

Until this moment, the Earth in Peridot’s experience belonged to the Crystal Gems. But the Earth extends far beyond them, really, and this simple piece of cloth is a token of belonging to the Earth.

Not that she could explain that to them.

“I accept,” she says, voice quavering as she wipes away a tear. “This is the most important kerchief on the planet. Thank you.”

 

Her eyes leak intermittently on the walk home, but Garnet doesn’t mind stopping as she pauses to wipe them away.

 

She and Steven sit out to watch the moon rise above the ocean that night. Before long, it gets too cold for Steven to comfortably stay outside, so they warp in and settle at the kitchen counter as Steven makes himself a cup of cocoa. Mid-conversation, the warp pad chimes to life again. It’s Amethyst, soaking wet, her arms full of dull green gear.

“Hey guys,” she says, allowing the items to clatter to the floor. “Went fishin’ tonight. Whaddya think of my catch?”

“My limb enhancers!” Peridot trips over herself to get to Amethyst, who’s wringing her hair out on the floor. “You brought them back!”

“Well, yeah.” Amethyst gives one final wring before giving up. “Garnet said you missed ‘em, and I had some free time. You’re already one of us, I just thought I’d _seal_ the deal.” She transforms into a seal and cackles at her own pun; Steven dissolves into laughter, too, holding his stomach.

 

Pearl appears, aghast at the mess, and orders them to move the limb enhancers to someplace where they wouldn’t damage the floor. Steven agrees to mop up the seawater, still chuckling, and Peridot and Amethyst move them to the bathtub.

“They’re too waterlogged for me to risk turning them on now,” says Peridot, chin in her hand. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Dude, when Steven dropped his phone in a puddle, he put it in a bag of rice to get all the water out of it. I think we have some in the pantry. Be right back.” Amethyst jogs out of the room and returns with the rice – they pour it over the limb enhancers and stare as it barely covers one cylindrical finger.

“We could add something else,” offers Amethyst.

“Yes, but what? Oh, hold on a second. I know what we should do!”

“Come on, man, don’t leave me hanging like this. Spit it out.”

“Rice…” Peridot takes a moment to bask in the genius of her idea. “… is a cereal.”

“Huh? No it’s not.”

“It is too. Pearl told me it is.”

“Okay… so?”

“Amethyst: what does Steven eat for breakfast every day?”

Amethyst’s eyes light up and she smacks a fist into her palm. “ _Got it.”_

 

They empty the last bit of cereal into the tub, and something falls out.

“Score! Cereal toy!”


End file.
